A Gaunt Riddle
by Mockingfire
Summary: " Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by magical means. I believe that she made the choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in love with her in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby's sake. If so, she was wrong...'


**basically when i was re-reading the half blood prince...again, i decided that this scene needed to be written, so i wrote it. it's the early hours of the morning at the moment so I'll edit this in the morning...**

**anyway enjoy and please comment :)**

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**A Gaunt Riddle**

Merope peered into the glass vial as the last rose tinted drop slithered reluctantly from the container, clinging to the rim for a fraction of a second, delaying the final moment.

She sighed, it was too late to turn back now, it would take three days to brew another batch and she had barely enough potion to last a day.

She wouldn't have changed her mind if she could even though the thought of not knowing, numbed her to a state of near paralysis.

She felt an impendent sense of loss settle itself in her mind as she stowed the empty bottle with the others. Her life, _this _life, that she had made for herself was going to change, and the trepidation was worse because she didn't know if it were for the better.

Whatever the outcome, it didn't really matter as long as it was real. For almost a year they'd lived like this and she had thought that they could be happy, and it had been and still was really, up until a week previous when she'd caught sight of her reflection, and she realised that what she was doing was wrong and she couldn't continue with things the way they were.

The locket hanging at her collar winked in the firelight of the stove and she knew that whatever happened after today, was the right thing because if she continued the ways things were, she would equate to no better than her father and brother. She'd grown up knowing how it felt to have to be powerless over your own life. Held captive by the authority of her father and by the draw of responsibility she'd felt. But now, she had become the captor, she had the dominance and she'd become so caught up in that, that she'd forgotten what it was like to be held against your own judgement and though he had never seemed anything but content with the situation she couldn't dismiss the fact that it wasn't right. But it left her wondering, just how true was it?

She felt years away from her old life in Little Hangleton, despite the fact that less than a year ago she's been living a shell of a life. Now, she had freedom, she could do as she pleased, she was loved, but recently she'd noticed that the line that so boldly separated Then and Now had become less defined, she began to realise that the only real difference was that she was the one in control. Keeping Tom dosed up on love potion was as bad as what her father did to her, but in a way what she was doing to him was worse because even though her actions were controlled by someone else, she did have the bare minimum of being able to feel and think freely, and she prohibited that liberty for him, the other reason was that she loved him, something her father had never felt for her, or shown any aptitude of it at least. She loved Tom and it was this that had ultimately determined her decision to stop giving him the potion.

There was no going back now, no second chances. It would three days to make a new batch and she had enough to barely last until morning.

But it _had_ been a long time-too long really but it had taken her that long to work up the courage to do this, but surely…maybe…after all that time Tom had come to feel for her as well.

It couldn't solely the influence of the love drought. Then there was the baby. Instinctively she rested a had tenderly on her stomach.

'Just wait my darling' she crooned softly 'we'll be a real family. You'll have two parents to look out for you and no matter what you'll never be alone.' She made a silent promise to her unborn child, the promise of a childhood that compensated for her own. He would not be brought up like herself and Morfin, his mind would not become the twisted asylum of her brother's or the shackled loneliness that her own upbringing had been.

Just then the sound of the front door opening rang through the house, jolting her from her thoughts.

Hurriedly, she stowed any remaining item that might be considered unacceptable for the viewing of Muggle eyes, into a cupboard.

The door shut with a thud and a click which echoed slightly though the dank rooms. A few footsteps later, the moth eaten curtain which acted in place of a kitchen door, slid back to reveal her husband.

He stood in the doorway, a handsome man, a great deal more threadbare than her's once looked, in threadbare clothes and his dark hair brushing his shoulders in desperate need of a trim. But his expression would have looked completely foreign to his features a year ago.

A broad smile illuminated his face as his gaze met that of his wife who smiled in reply, though trying to push away the sadness she felt each time she saw the glazed expression in his eyes which was the only thing that marred the adoration he seemingly felt, and she tried to ignore the constant whispering in her head.

_It's not real, you know? It's not real. He doesn't love you. It's not real…_

_Stop it! _she though back towards the voice. Tom continued to watch her with that warm, thoughtful smile that threatened to melt her heart.

_It's all pretend. He could never love you. It's not real…How could someone like him ever love someone like you…you're worthless…you have noting…you _are _nothing…It's not real._

'Stop it!' she told the voice and until she saw the concerned expression on his face, she hadn't realised she had spoken aloud. She rushed to brush off her unusual behaviour.

'Sorry, I've got a bad headache, it's been driving me mad all day'

His look of concern shifted ever so slightly to one of sympathy and she felt, if possible, even worse for the lie.

Since the moment she'd passed him that glass of water, she had battled with herself. It had been so easy; her father and brother in prison and he had just strolled passed as he did often, though that moment he had been on his own, it had been all too simple to offer him a glass of cool water (laced with the potion she had pilfered from Morfin which she kept aside in case an opportunity should arise when she may need it) and she was so lonely…

Dragging herself away from her memories, she met her husbands gaze gave meaning to reassure him but instead found herself asking,

'Do you love me?' She said, surprising herself as she'd not meant to voice the question but she realised just how much the answer meant to her an she waited.

There was a moment of silence and she feared he wouldn't answer, but then he walked forwards wrapping her in the warmth of his arms and whispered softly.

'Of course I do.'

Leaning back lightly she gazed into his eyes, wishing that she could believe him. But she didn't know what to believe anymore. She shook herself from her thoughts, trying to find some sort of normality.

'Come on darling, dinner's ready' she said and briskly crossed to the hob to dish out the food, and Tom, smiling, sat at the table obediently.

Merope woke to find the bed beside her, cold and empty. She got up, draping a blanket over her shoulders for warmth. Hesitantly she peered out the doorway and felt a huge sense of relief when she saw Tom sitting at the table staring into a cup of untouched coffee.

'Tom?' she asked tentatively.

He looked up suddenly, as though he'd received a static shock. Tom stayed silent, staring at her, a confusion of expressions flashed across his face.

'Are you alright?'

He battled internally with his emotions for a moment.

'I'm confused' he said. 'where am I?'

She made no reply to this, she couldn't think of anything to say. This didn't matter for he seemed to be talking to himself more than to her.

He was talking to himself, not paying heed to his wife's presence.

'Mother's expecting me back, she'll be worried if I'm not home soon…I need to be home. Where is home?' he mumbled to himself.

Merope touched her husbands shoulder tentatively,

'Darling, you are home. This is where you belong.'

He recoiled from the contact and a sudden hardness filled his stare as he become aware of her and seemingly coming to his senses.

'You.' he accused in almost a hiss.

She took a step back in surprise as he rose to his feet in a single motion. Anger sparked across his features.

'You did this. This is your fault.' He glared at her.

She shook her head fervently, 'Darling what are you talking about?' reaching out in an attempt to console him but it had quite the opposite effect.

'Stay back, you Demon, I know your trickery. And I shan't fall for it again.'

Merope felt tears spring to her eyes. 'Tom, you know I love you.'

'you are not capable of love.'

'Tom, please?' she pleaded. 'the baby'

'That hell spawn is no child of mine.' he said 'you disgust me.'

And with that he turned and without even taking a jacket with him he walked out of the house without a single glance backwards. Out of her life, forever. Taking her heart and soul with him.


End file.
